


Just a (Jazz) Gigolo 2: The Devirginizing

by blackmountainbones



Series: Just a (Jazz) Gigolo [2]
Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Ass-to-mouth, Bringing Back the Boosh, First Time, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Praise Kink, Prompt #5: NSFW, Rimming, howard crosses the physical boundary, idiots to lovers, in my defense he's got 32 years of sexual repression to make up for, seriously it's smut from beginning to end, tl;dr: vince worships howard's arse, utter filth with no redeeming qualities, you know Howard just wants to be told he's good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-04-24 11:24:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19172293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackmountainbones/pseuds/blackmountainbones
Summary: After his failed attempt to meet other men who like men who like jazz, Howard finally loses his virginity to an electro ponce. Vince does his best to make Howard's first foray over the physical boundary memorable.





	Just a (Jazz) Gigolo 2: The Devirginizing

**Author's Note:**

> I told you I was writing a sequel to Just a (Jazz) Gigolo! Writing this was a trip, my dudes. I got about 4000 words in and there was still no penetration. I blame the muse (she's filthy like an old shoe).

Vince backed Howard against the kitchen counter, their kisses growing sloppier and more frantic as the long-denied passion between the two men intensified with each touch of their tongues. He’d expected someone as protective of his virginity as Howard to be hesitant and shy, barking “Don’t touch me!” each time that Vince snuck a hand beneath his scratchy roll-neck for a grope of the soft flesh beneath, but Howard accepted each of Vince’s touches with a level of enthusiasm that bordered on shamelessness. He’d even been bold enough to press a thigh against the growing hardness at Vince’s groin, making Vince gasp into his mouth with combined desire and surprise as he pressed himself more closely to Howard’s body, feeling the answering hardness of Howard’s prick against his belly.

“Fuck, Howard, you feel bigger ‘n I expected,” Vince moaned, sliding a hand down Howard’s side to cup his cock through the thick corduroy trousers. His explorations of Howard’s intimate places were interrupted by an ear-splitting drum and bass track emanating from Naboo’s room.

Bollo’s voice was raised in a shout as he shouted at Naboo over the bass. “What that noise? Is Howard hurting Vince?”

Naboo’s answering exclamation was just as loud and tinged with panic. “Don’t go out there! It’s not safe! They’re probably leaking fluids all over the place--”

“Howard make Vince bleed? Bollo kill him--”

“No, not that kind of fluid! From their penises!”

Luckily, Howard seemed to be distracted enough that he hadn’t noticed Naboo and Bollo’s commentary. Vince covered Howard’s ears protectively, a gesture that Howard seemed to interpret as sexual based on the way that he groaned and arched into Vince’s touch.

Somehow, Vince managed to back Howard from the kitchen into their shared bedroom without ever breaking the kiss. When Howard’s knees made contact with the edge of a mattress, he was surprised enough that he collapsed onto a bed that must have been Vince’s judging by the candy-sweet scent of the sheets beneath him.

Vince looked down at Howard’s sprawl of limbs, a feeling of tenderness threatening to overwhelm him. With a hesitant hand, he reached to trace the bulge in Howard’s trousers.

Out of habit, Howard batted Vince’s hand away, feeling embarrassed as soon as he did so. He hadn’t _meant_ to push Vince away--if anything, he’d wanted Vince to keep touching him--but he’d been so overwhelmed that he’d acted on reflex. “Sorry,” he mumbled, forcing himself to look Vince in the eye.

Vince’s eyes were wide with concern. “S’okay,” he said softly. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Though most of his prior affairs had begun, and ended, in a single night, Vince could wait for Howard to be ready. He’d been waiting literal _years_ for Howard to come to terms with his sexuality, after all.

“No! I _do_ want to,” Howard protested. “I just don’t know how.” He hung his head, ashamed to have to admit how badly he wanted, and how little he knew.

Vince looked down at him, eyes shining dark, pupils dilated until they were no more than a thin ring of blue remained in his pupils. “S’alright, Howard,” he soothed, reaching a hand to trace down Howard’s clothed chest. The heat of his hand seared through the layers of wool, the intensity making Howard flinch. Concerned, Vince moved to withdraw his hand, but Howard closed his fingers around Vince’s slim wrist, tracing the bump at the base of his palm with his thumb.

“Don’t stop,” Howard murmured, surprising himself with how much he meant it.

“You sure?” Vince wanted to believe him, but he also knew just how inexperienced Howard was with this sort of thing. Howard thought he was a strong, stoic man, capable of bearing all sorts of discomfort, but Vince knew his friend was soft-hearted and somewhat fearful, and was hesitant to push him too far, too fast, lest he freak out and clam up and refuse to let Vince touch him like this ever again.

Howard nodded, unable to explain. Half of him wanted to run away, to pretend that everything that had happened tonight, from the jazz club to the alley to Vince’s sweet kisses in the street, had never happened, but the other half of him knew that there was no way to take it back. Even if Howard crawled into his own bed, alone, his friendship with Vince had changed irrevocably--they’d finally admitted to their deepest secret, and try as they might, there was no amount of make-believe that could make things they way they were before, when they’d been pretending not to want one another.

Oblivious to Howard’s inner dilemma, or perhaps simply ignoring it, Vince tugged Howard’s rollneck over his head before once again skimming his fingers softly down Howard’s torso, tracing the gentle curves of his stomach and chest. All the while, Howard lay still as possible, focusing on the sensation of Vince’s soft fingertips as they trailed from his tits down his naked sides. It tickled, and Howard couldn’t stifle the giggles that bubbled up from his belly.

Vince froze, alarmed that he may have done something wrong, something that would trigger Howard out of his compliant, submissive state.

“Sorry,” Howard said, trying to will himself to stay still and stop giggling. “Just… ticklish.”

Vince grinned wide, like that was the best thing anyone had ever told him. “Have to remember that for later,” he murmured, voice tinged with mischief in a way that made Howard shudder despite himself. It didn’t seem like a joke--Howard knew exactly how Vince’s voice sounded when he was trying not to laugh at his own cleverness--rather, it was tinged with something darker, something Howard would describe as sensual. Howard was still innocent in the ways of the flesh, but he suspected Vince’s comment hinted at carnal delights the likes of which Howard could not yet imagine.

Vince returned to his explorations of Howard’s torso, this time careful to avoid the sides of his tummy and triggering another fit of laughter. The next sound Howard made was a a moan, the sound making Vince smile. “That’s it,” Vince murmured, “let me hear you, oh, Howard--”

Howard replied with another sigh of pleasure as Vince’s fingers stole up his chest to cup his tits. He’d always secretly admired this part of Howard’s physique, though he knew Howard was often self-conscious about the softness of his body. Howard’s body was large, sturdy, and soft, and so different from the slimness, boniness, and angularity of Vince’s own, as well as the fashion twits with whom Vince usually got off.

Vince trailed the edge of a nail over one of Howard’s small pink nipples, watching it draw tight and he flicked at it. Howard let out another one of those little almost-moans which made Vince’s cock, half-forgotten until now, throb to life between his legs. In the back of his mind, Vince knew he should get naked--he didn’t want to stretch the fabric of his favorite jumpsuit and risk ruining the fit, but he was too enthralled by the little sounds and shivers Howard was making to stop now.

“God, you’ve got such good tits,” Vince breathed, leaning down to nibble at one. Howard made another groaning sound, which Vince took as his cue to bite down a bit harder. Finally, Howard’s inhibitions broke--he reached up to clutch at Vince’s shaggy head with eager fingers, pulling him closer, a resonant rumbling sound echoing in Vince’s ears. Even as his teeth were firmly fixed on Howard’s nipple, Vince could feel a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

How long had Vince imagined this, all the years of pent-up lust and sexual frustration finally flowing free from Howard’s tightly-wound frame? Vince knew the answer--too long, longer even than he wanted to admit. The sounds he wrung from Howard were more delicious than he’d imagined, and Vince knew for a fact that he had a very vivid imagination indeed.

Spurred on by Howard’s eagerness, Vince replaced his mouth with his fingers, twisting and pinching, then fit his mouth over Howard’s to capture the moans that spilled from his lips. They buzzed against Vince’s tongue and teeth, and suddenly, it was no longer enough for Vince to press up against his best friend-cum-lover through their clothing. He broke the kiss suddenly, contorting his arms to reach behind himself and release the zip of his jumpsuit, eager to feel Howard’s skin against his own--

Howard looked so confused, so lost, lying there while Vince wriggled out of his own clothing, that Vince felt the need to reassure him. “Just getting my kit off,” he explained.

“Ah,” Howard said, then lifted his arms to Vince’s back, not to drag him down for another kiss, but rather to release the zip of Vince’s jumpsuit, his eyes crinkling with a smile even as his lips were set in a determined line while he freed Vince from his clothing. Soon, Vince was kneeling on the bed, wearing nothing but a pair of neon-pink pants, his erection straining against the tight fabric, a small wet spot clinging to the plump and prominent head of his prick.

With a hesitant finger, Howard rubbed the damp spot, his fingers tracing the sensitive head of Vince’s cock. Before he could help himself, Vince was thrusting his hips into the touch, gasping at the intensity of the sensation. It was nothing like touching himself, nothing like he’d experienced with any of his previous lovers--he was surprised at how close he’d come to, well, coming when Howard’s large hand wrapped around his cloth-covered cock and squeezed, only managing to keep himself under control at the last moment.

A spurt of precum trickled out of his cock and into the fabric of his pants, and Vince made a truly embarrassing sound, then batted Howard’s eager fingers away lest he embarrass himself. Howard had asked for a bumming, and Vince was determined to give him one, not make a mess on Howard’s hand.

“Was that… was that OK?” Howard asked, his voice low and so, so sweet.

“Yeah,” Vince gasped, still trying to keep himself under control. “Just--need a minute.” Howard looked confused, so Vince explained, “Don’t wanna come now. If you keep touchin’ me like that, I’m gonna go off before I even start opening you up…”

Howard’s answering blush was so strong that his ears turned pink with it. He’d done some… research… upon having discovered the truth about his sexuality, though he was still a little shy about putting what he’d learned into practice.

But the thing was, he trusted Vince to make this good. Vince made everything better, even when it was something as mundane as watching Colobus the Crab on telly, debating over whether or not jellybaby pancakes were a proper dinner, or working out their latest crimps. So Howard focused on the warm feel of Vince’s breath on his neck and the weight of Vince’s hands hovering over the fly of his cords, closed his eyes, and nodded.

Vince, who was watching Howard intently, could tell from the look of intense concentration on Howard’s brow that he was contemplating what Vince had said. For a moment, Vince was worried that Howard was about to change his mind about the whole thing. But when Howard closed his eyes and nodded, hesitant yet full of trust, Vince knew Howard had made his choice, and he’d chosen _Vince_.

Vince wasted no time grabbing the lube from his drawer, the one that was extra slick and tasted of strawberries. He wanted to make sure Howard’s first time was extra special, and he had something in mind...

“Take your clothes off for me, yeah, Howard?” Vince asked, sitting back on his haunches to watch the show.

Howard cracked his eyes open. They sparkled at Vince from beneath his strong, straight brow, two small, deep pools burning with desire so strong that Vince had to reach down and give his aching cock a squeeze before he lost control. Slowly, with trembling hands, Howard reached down and undid his fly. Hooking his thumbs in his waistband, he pulled his trousers down.

Beneath his cords, he was wearing a plain white pair of loose-fit boxers. They tented over Howard’s erection, the fly wide and gaping. Vince could almost see his cock through the gap in the fly--

But then Howard removed his boxers too, and Vince’s mouth went dry. Howard’s cock was perhaps not as big as Vince had expected from a man of his stature, but his prick was well-shaped and smooth except for one thick vein that throbbed along the side. Vince was almost certain that he could see Howard’s heartbeart pulsing there as his cock bobbed up and down impatiently.

Vince’s stare was making Howard feel a bit self-conscious. He knew that he wasn’t much to look at--his pubes were sparse and somewhat ginger, and his bollocks were droopy, especially for a man only 32 years of age. Instinctively, Howard’s hands moved to cover his bits, but Vince caught him by the wrist.

“Don’t be shy, Howard,” he said softly. “I just like looking at you. Been wondering what you looked like for a long time--”

A moan spilled from Howard’s lips before he could stop himself. He let Vince place his hands palm-down on the mattress, and he lay still, held down by the force of Vince’s gaze, as Vince looked his fill.

Finally, Vince opened the bottle of lube, the sugary-sweet scent reminding Howard of the strawberry bootlaces Vince favored. Vince made a big show of slicking up his hand, and his thighs fell open instinctively.

Howard braced himself for the intrusion, but Vince took his time, slowly tracing Howard’s hole and getting him nice and wet, peppering his thighs with gentle kisses that almost, but not quite, tickled. Pausing only to squeeze a little more lube onto his fingers, Vince resumed his careful caresses, then looked up at Howard with a question in his eyes.

Howard nodded, not altogether sure what he was agreeing to. But then one of Vince’s slick, wide fingers pressed inside, bit by bit. At first, it burned, but Vince was patient with him, murmuring soothing nonsense until Howard figured out how to relax his muscles and accept him inside.

“That’s it,” Vince coaxed, “just bear down for me, like that, yeah…” His words faded into a sort of moan as Howard followed his instructions, and he slid his finger in up to the knuckle, wriggling it a bit as he did so.

It was weird, but not _that_ weird, Howard reflected. He didn’t feel the intense shock of pleasure that his research had led him to expect from the act, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, not really; in fact, it was a strangely intimate sensation, this, feeling Vince’s finger touching him from the inside. He clenched and released his muscles experimentally, and was rewarded by another of Vince’s moans.

“You little tart,” Vince said, his voice raspy in a way that Howard had never heard before, “I knew you’d like this, if you let me…” He pushed his finger in and withdrew it gently a few times before adding another.

The hoarse edge to Vince’s voice made Howard feel strangely proud. He wasn’t doing much other than letting Vince finger him, but somehow, Vince was the one falling apart. Howard did the thing with his muscles again, just for the satisfaction of hearing Vince’s voice go low and rough.

Without warning, Vince withdrew his fingers. At first, Howard froze with surprise, thinking Vince was about to replace them with his cock. He was surprised when Vince simply rolled him onto his stomach and put a pillow under his hips.

Howard felt a little sheepish about getting Vince’s pillow dirty, especially since his cock had begun leaking a bit from the stimulation of being fingered. He was caught off guard when Vince applied more of the sweet-smelling lube and replaced his hand with his face.

Vince inhaled deeply, going a bit light-headed at the scent of Howard, which, beneath the strawberry-sweetness of the lube, was heady and musky, _human_. He flicked his tongue experimentally along the inside of Howard’s thigh, and when Howard groaned, he traced a damp path up Howard’s thigh with his tongue before delving between his arsecheeks. The lube smeared against Vince’s face, and he was suddenly reminded that he’d failed to shave that afternoon when Howard wriggled and ground his cock into the pillow under his hips, his five-o’-clock shadow rasping against the smooth flesh of Howard’s arse with a softly scratching sound.

Experimentally, Vince licked at Howard’s rim, pushing his tongue against the loosened muscle until it yielded and accepted him inside. Howard’s smell was stronger here, heady in a way that reminded Vince of fruit going overripe. Vince opened his mouth wider, letting the saliva drip from his lips onto Howard’s skin and trying to shove his tongue inside as far as it could go.

Howard was still a bit tight, and Vince fumbled blindly in the sheets until he found the bottle of lube. Without bothering to look at what he was doing, he added more lube to his fingers, then pressed two into Howard’s arsehole, scissoring them to open him up further. He snaked his tongue between his fingers, finally able to taste Howard in earnest.

For his part. Howard was busy biting on Vince’s electric-pink sueded mircrofiber duvet. His legs were trembling from the sensation of Vince’s tongue and fingers tickling him on the inside while Vince’s stubble tickled him from the outside and he fought against the instinct to press his thighs together and squeeze Vince’s head between them. Even his extensive research hadn’t prepared him for this--it was sweeter and more intimate than Vince’s fingers alone.

Suddenly, Howard was shocked by a frisson of pleasure of Vince’s fingertips brushed against… something. Perhaps _this_ was what the books had been referring to… Howard couldn’t finish that thought. His cock pulsed, and he was sure he was making a mess of Vince’s pillow, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Vince touched that spot again, and Howard bucked his hips, mashing Vince’s prodigious nose into his arse. Vince made a pained sound and sat upright, rubbing his nose. “Christy, Howard, be careful,” he grumbled, “you tryna break my nose or summat?”

Howard wriggled his bum and pushed himself back against Vince’s face. “Not like anyone would notice the difference.”

“Oi!” Vince tried to protest, but Howard had already grabbed him by the hair and pushed him back between his cheeks. Chuffed by Howard’s eagerness, Vince obliged, and returned to the task of rimming Howard silly.

It didn’t take long before the dual stimulation of Vince’s tongue flicking against his inner walls and the press of Vince’s fingers against his prostate made Howard come with a shout. He surprised both himself and Vince as he ground himself between the pillow beneath his hips and Vince’s face, whimpering as his semen spilled all over his pubic hair, his belly, and the pillow.

Vince kept licking at him until he was spent and sensitive. Then, when Howard was boneless and pliable, he sidled up beside Howard’s prone from, rolling him onto his side to face Vince, then wrapped his arms around Howard’s torso, gently stroking his shaking body.

Howard wasted no time in diving into Vince’s mouth, kissing him sloppily, with lots of tongue. Vince was surprised that the virginal Howard would do something so filthy, but he accepted the kiss, though he could not stop a chuckle from escaping.

Somehow, Howard was the one with a scandalized look in his eyes, despite everything. “This is no laughing matter, sir.”

Unexpectedly, that word, _sir_ , made Vince’s cock, which had gone half-soft during his attentions to Howard’s hole, leap to full erection, and Vince rubbed himself against Howard’s messy, semen-soaked belly. “You’re so filthy, Howard. You know where my mouth’s been!”

Howard’s eyes burned with intensity. “I don’t care,” he said, surprised at how earnestly he meant it--in fact, it had not even occurred to him to be disgusted, yet even now he was surprised to discover that he didn’t mind--and snogged Vince again.

“You slag,” Vince muttered between kisses, “you utter, filthy _slag_ …”

Normally, Howard would have been offended by such language. But he found that he didn’t mind, in fact, the word almost sounded affectionate, considering the circumstances.

All the while, Vince was still rutting against his hip. Struck by a sudden flash of inspiration, Howard reached down between Vince’s legs, giving his prick an experimental grope. In response, Vince went rigid, trying his best to keep from humping into Howard’s hand until he came too.

Vince fumbled for the lube before he lost it. “C’mon, Howard, you’re all relaxed now, yeah? Think you’re ready for my cock?”

And Howard, still on the high of his earlier orgasm, nodded. He’d just come, but it hadn’t been _enough_ ; now that he’d experienced some of the pleasure to be found across the physical boundary, he found he only wanted _more._ He made to roll over onto his belly, but Vince stopped him. “On your back, yeah?”

Howard complied, and Vince moved between his spread legs. He gazed down at Howard, silently committing the image to memory--Howard’s cheeks and chest flushed a dark red, his still-wet semen smeared on his thighs and stomach. It was the sexiest thing Vince had ever seen, and he said so, thrilling a bit when Howard preened and spread his legs a bit wider.

Vince made quick work of slicking his cock and fingers with the lube, noting that he would need to buy some more the next time he was at Boots as he had a suspicion that after releasing 32 years’ worth of pent-up lust, Howard would be insatiable. He pressed his fingers, three this time, to Howard’s anus, which was loose and red, marvelling at how easily Howard took him. There was little resistance, and Howard sighed softly, eyes glazed over with pleasure, as Vince made sure he was good and slick, teasing a bit at his prostate for good measure.

Howard’s cock, which hadn’t had time to go fully soft, bobbed as Vince rubbed at the spongy gland inside him. Absently, Vince wondered how many times he could make Howard come in one evening, then pushed aside the thought for further examination at a later date. He removed his fingers from Howard’s arse, wiping them on the duvet without a thought for how much of a pain in the arse it was to get the stains out of the sueded material, thinking only of how badly he wanted to be inside him.

Hitching Howard’s legs over his shoulders, Vince lined himself up and pressed inside. Though he’d spent so long working Howard open, he was still tight, and Vince moved his hips in little circles, making space for himself inside Howard’s body. It took a while, but finally, he was fully seated, and Vince paused, panting, willing himself to keep control long enough to give Howard a proper bumming for his first time.

But then Howard _clenched_ around him, and Vince lost control, pulling out and driving back in more roughly than he’d intended. Howard didn’t seem to mind--in fact, as Vince fucked into him, Howard fucked back, clenching and releasing his muscles around Vince’s cock. “You’re so good at this,” Vince panted, “you’re a natural, you were made to be fucked--”

Howard was a mess of conflicting sensation. He didn’t know what he liked best--Vince’s ragged breathing in his ear as he snapped his hips into Howard’s, the mindless stream of filthy words that spilled from his lips, or the salty taste of the sweat that dripped from Vince’s fringe, down his nose, and into Howard’s gasping mouth. It was overwhelming, and Howard was torn between closing his eyes to focus only on the sensation of Vince’s cock dragging in and out of his hole, or keeping them open and gorging on the sight of Vince, messy-haired and sweat-slick, above him.

Vince’s arms were trembling from the effort of bracing himself above Howard’s prone form. He didn’t think he could last much longer--his abs were burning, his cock felt so hard he ached, and his balls were drawn tight and close to bursting. But Howard looked so serene beneath him, beatific almost, and Vince was determined to fuck the self-satisfied expression off of his face before finally letting go.

He tested another angle, watching Howard’s face for a sign that he’d gotten it right. It took a few tries, but suddenly, Howard’s face screwed up into something that was almost a grimace, and the moan that escaped him was a keening, quavering thing.

Triumphant, Vince kept pushing at that spot, watching as Howard’s cock filled to full hardness. His erection flopped against his belly, still wet with his earlier orgasm.

Howard was losing his mind. His brain was beyond thought and probably leaking out of his head as the pleasure sparked inside him. It was like nothing he’d ever felt before---though Vince’s fingers had been nice enough, nothing compared to the feeling of his cock ramming Howard’s prostate head-on with the force and weight of his entire body behind it. The feeling made Howard think of his cock being stroked, but from the inside, and when Vince reached up and grabbed his hand, placing it on his erect penis and giving him a few guiding strokes, his mind went blank but for the pleasure he felt _everywhere._

He was only half-aware that Vince had let go, and Howard continued to wank himself on instinct. His prick was still a bit sensitive, but he didn’t give a toss about that--all that mattered was the sensation building up inside him--

Then Vince let out a high-pitched moan and bore down. Howard could feel his prick throbbing inside him, then a moment later, a strange, wet sensation spilling inside his arsehole. Instinctively, he clenched down, which only made Vince howl louder and collapse over him, mouth seeking Howard’s while his skinny elbows and ribs digging into the softer flesh of Howard’s belly and chest, his hips jerking irregularly as he tried to grind himself deeper, deeper still--

Through it all, Howard kept wanking himself, until the pleasure crested and he came, too. There was less semen this time, just a dribble, but the orgasm was no less intense. Perhaps it was even more so, considering the feel of Vince inside and above him, the smell and taste of him everywhere.

“Oh fuck, Howard, fuck, that’s so good…” Vince murmured, still trying to fuck Howard even though he was starting to lose his erection. He was getting a bit sensitive, but the feel of Howard’s heat and the way his arse was rippling around him from the aftermath of his orgasm was too sweet for Vince to surrender it just yet. He held Howard close, kissing at his neck, face, and chest, his moustache bristling against Vince’s stubble, until he could take it no longer, and finally withdrew.

Howard didn’t want to let him go--he tightened around Vince’s cock, desperate to keep him inside just a little bit longer, but Vince had gone soft enough that the added pressure only pushed his softening prick out. Howard sobbed a bit at the loss, but Vince gathered him in his arms, holding him tightly and stroking his hair, mumbling some nonsense about how good Howard had felt, how well he’d taken Vince’s prick, how sexy it had been to see him give himself over to his pleasure, and Howard let himself be soothed.

They lay together, Howard leaking onto the duvet, wondering at the strange sensation of Vince’s come trickling out of him. He still felt a bit loose, and blushed a bit, wondering how he could possibly stand up without embarrassing himself.

Eventually, Vince wrapped himself in his robe, whispering that he would be right back. Howard gazed at him, his small eyes wider than Vince had ever seen them before, looking like nothing so much as a puppy anxious for his master to return to his side. “I won’t be a minute,” he promised, making his way to the bathroom for a flannel.

Vince couldn’t resist taking a peek in the mirror as he ran the water for the flannel, waiting for it to warm up so Howard’s sensitized skin wouldn’t shock when he wiped him clean. He looked a mess--his hair was plastered to his scalp with sweat, his eyeliner smeared, his lips red and swollen. Vain as he was, Vince couldn’t find it in him to care--he simply rinsed his face, wet the flannel, and returned to the bedroom he shared with Howard, only to find Howard still lying on his bed, covered with the evidence of their lovemaking and scatting softly to himself.

“Oi, Howard, none of that!” he groused, but Howard was oblivious, lost in one of his jazz trances. Vince knew there was only one way to wake him--with a slap--and he smiled mischievously before slapping Howard on the arse, hard enough that a red handprint lingered on Howard’s pale skin for a moment before fading away.

“Christy, Vince, what was that for?” Howard muttered as he rubbed his well-abused arse.

“You were doing that jazz thing,” Vince explained.

“You didn’t have to hit me!” Howard whined.

“‘Course I did,” Vince said. “You know I’m allergic!” He smirked. “That’s no way to treat the man who’s just given you the first bumming of your life.”

“Can’t help it,” Howard said, looking a bit sheepish. “You know I only scat when I’m happy.”

“So… you liked it?” Vince asked, grinning as he reached for the flannel and began wiping Howard clean.

Lost in the pleasure of Vince’s attentions, Howard hummed, then caught himself before he started scatting again. “Not sure,” he teased. “We’ll probably have to do it again before I make a judgement about that, sir.”

A frisson of pleasure licked down Vince’s spine at that word, and he filed the unexpected emotion away for closer examination later. For now, he swatted at Howard’s arse again, and Howard, recently-devirginized slag that he was, wriggled saucily. “Look at you,” Vince smirked, “already fancying another go.”

Howard licked his lips and gave Vince another snog, not even trying to deny it. Though it would be some time before Vince was up to giving him another bumming, he smirked, feeling satisfied with himself. He’d known all along that underneath all that sexual repression, Howard would be insatiable, which suited Vince just fine.

Of course, as soon as their snogging intensified into moans, caresses, and blatant gropes, a knock sounded at the door. “C’mon guys, have some respect for your flatmates!” Naboo hollered. “Bollo and me are trying to get high here!”

Both men ignored the shaman’s disgruntled shouts and concentrated on working each other up enough to get each other off again. Finally, a door slammed down the hall, and Fleetwood Mac started blaring over Naboo and Bollo’s state-of-the-art soundsystem. “I hope you fall so far up each other’s bums you die of it!” Naboo cursed before turning the music up even louder.

Vince and Howard broke their kiss and laughed. It didn’t sound like such a bad way to go, all things considered.  


**Author's Note:**

> I hope this was worth the wait! Comments and kudos keep the muse fed and inspire us to write more.


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